Rainchecks and Strawberry Jam
by rebecca-in-blue
Summary: "This might make their partnership blow up in his face." Tagged to Psych Out: Tony goes to Ziva's apartment and finds something that surprises him. Tiva angst, semi-smut.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: I don't ship Tiva, but the plot-bunny for this story just wouldn't leave me alone! It starts out right in episode 9x16 "Pysch Out," then goes in its own direction. There will be both angst and something bordering on smut, with Tiva all around. I hope you enjoy!_

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

"Someone tried to give our victim a tumor?" Tony asks, picking up one of the field emitters from McGee's desk and turning it over in his hands. For all the trouble that this thing must've caused Banks, it looks so small and insignificant.

"More like headaches and nightmares," McGee corrects him.

It only lasts for a second, but Tony notices the troubled look that passes like a storm cloud over Ziva's face just then. He hears her draw in a sharp breath as her dark eyes look down at the floor, ashamed. Then, because she can tell that her partner has noticed her reaction, she turns her face sharply away from Tony. He's half-glad that she does, because if he had to see that wounded look in her eyes for one more second, he couldn't have resisted the urge to wrap his arms around her and hold her close again.

McGee – naive, innocent McGee – doesn't notice, of course. He just continues working, and Tony is almost jealous of how blissfully ignorant their Elf-Lord can still be sometimes. Of how much he doesn't know.

McGee was the one who had actually asked Ziva what she would do if she were raped, back when they were working the Kaylen Burrows case. Tony still wanted to head-smack him for that one.

And McGee doesn't know – no one does, besides the two of them – about that night in Paris when she started screaming in her sleep. Tony had sprung up from where he'd been sleeping on the floor, thinking that the hotel must be on fire. Then he saw Ziva, and he understood. She stopped screaming as soon as she woke up, but she looked so sweaty and shaky that Tony climbed into bed with her and held her. He expected her to object and push him away, but he wanted to comfort her so badly that he didn't care. To his surprise, Ziva had let him stay in bed with her and hold her for the rest of the night.

She never talked about her nightmare, though, and Tony never asked.

The elevator dings just then, and their boss strides in with a tall Starbucks cup and a thick stack of files, which he dumps in front of them on McGee's desk. Ziva immediately moves closer to Gibbs's side, distancing herself from Tony. _Of course, _Tony thinks, a bit bitterly. She doesn't feel comfortable around him now because she knows that he noticed, and because even after all these years, she still trusts Gibbs more.

But Tony can't be angry at her after the horrible thought occurs to him. God, what if she's still having nightmares? What if she still wakes up screaming?

He tries to convince himself that surely Ziva isn't still having nightmares, not after all this time. But the question won't stop nagging at him. _What if she is, huh? What are you gonna do? _He can't just do _nothing_, and he can't stand not knowing. That look in her eyes when McGee mentioned Banks's nightmares... Ziva didn't _sympathize_ with him. No, she _understood_. Because she had been there. And maybe she was still there. Tony has to know, so that night – after he stays late in the bullpen, scrambling to figure how he owes NCIS three grand, and where the hell he's going to get that kind of money – he drives to Ziva's apartment.

oOo

But in the hallway of her apartment building, Tony comes to his senses. What is he going to do, knock on Ziva's door at this hour and demand to know if she's still having nightmares about something that happened... God, has it really been two years now? At worst, he'll rip open old wounds that took so long to heal, which might make their whole partnership blow up in his face. At best, she'll be mad at him for bringing up a painful subject that she obviously doesn't want to talk about. And besides, Ziva could already be asleep. It's later than he thought.

She's never opened up to him about what happened to her in Somalia. Never. The one time that he tried to get her to talk about it, she shut him down. _"What is there to talk about?"_ And since then, Tony has never dared to bring it up again. Maybe he was stupid to think that Ziva might ever trust him with it.

_Get real, DiNozzo_, Tony scolds himself as he paces back and forth in front of her door. He decides that this was a bad idea, and with a deep sigh, he turns away and starts to leave.

That's when he notices a strange, silver flash of light from the side of Ziva's door, even though it's still closed. The investigator in him has to get a better look. So Tony turns and walks back, until he's standing right in front of her door, staring at the source of the flash.

It's a slender, silver case, fastened at an angle to Ziva's door frame. A few ornate Hebrew letters decorate the front of it. Tony feels certain that it was flashing on purpose, to beckon him over to Ziva's door just when he was about to leave. He wonders what the Hebrew letters on it spell out, and curious, he raises one hand to touch it. His fingers have barely brushed the cool metal when Ziva's door suddenly swings open.

Tony jerks back a bit, surprised, and quickly lowers his hand from the little silver case on her doorframe. He was being as quiet as possible, but of course she would know that he was out here, with her ninja super-senses.

"Tony?" she asks, blinking at him in confusion. At least she isn't angry.

Ziva's dressed for bed in a tight white tank top and boxer shorts. Her hair is loose, attempting to revert back to its natural curls, and her heavy-lidded eyes make Tony wonder if she was sleeping. She has tiny a smudge of something red and sticky-looking on the side of her mouth.

"I..." Tony begins, but he hesitates. _Hey, I was just coming over to see if maybe you're still having nightmares about being held captive for three months? _Thank God that he's always been good at thinking on his feet, and quickly recovers. "I wanted to get a raincheck on drinks with you and McGee next time." _Or just you._

"It is not raining," Ziva frowns. Tony opens his mouth to explain it to her, but she beats him to it by giggling – _Ziva? Giggling?_ he thinks. _How much did she have to drink?_– and says, "I am kidding. I know that word." She leans toward him as she speaks, which pulls that flimsy little tank top even tighter across her small breasts, and Tony has to struggle not to stare.

To divert his eyes, he glances back at the little silver case on Ziva's doorframe. She sees him looking at it and says, "My Aunt Nettie sent it to me from Israel." He must look puzzled because she adds, "It is called a mezuzah. It is a... Jewish thing." She waves her hand lazily, as if she's too tired to explain in any more detail than that.

There's a pause, and Tony feels like he should say goodnight and leave, but he can't bring himself to do it. No, he can't possibly walk away from Ziva when she's wearing boxer shorts that give him such a nice view of her legs, and a tank top so tight that he can tell she isn't wearing a bra beneath it.

"Would you like to come in?" Ziva asks, tilting her head towards him. Tony catches a whiff of strawberry jam. That's what the little red smudge on corner of her mouth is. He has a sudden, almost irresistible urge to raise his hand to her lips and wipe it away – or better yet, put his mouth against hers and lick it off.

He resists that, but he does accept her offer to come in, and his heart beats a little faster as he steps inside. From Ziva's unusual behavior – the giggling, the inviting him in so late, and when she's dressed like this, no less – Tony gets the distinct impression that this is going to be a memorable evening.

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><p><em>Most of you are probably still waiting for that semi-smut you were promised. I tried to give you a little taste of it here, but most of it will be in Chapter 2. :)<br>_


	2. Chapter 2

_Huh. I'm not 100% pleased with this chapter, which I feel moves a little into cliche territory. Oh, well._

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<br>**

Tony sits down on the couch after Ziva clears a space for him, gathering up a newspaper that was spread all over the cushions. He sees a large headline about the upcoming AIPAC conference; Ziva always follows that event closely. On the coffee table is a saucer with a half-eaten slice of toast smeared with strawberry jam. So that's what she was doing.

Ziva plops down on the couch next to him after dumping the newspaper on the floor. She looks at him levelly and asks, "Why did you come here tonight, Tony?"

The abruptness of her question catches him off-guard, but only for a second. He should've known that she wouldn't believe his flimsy excuse about wanting to get a raincheck. After all, she can read him as well as he can her. And right then, Tony decides to tell her the truth. Even if she hates him for bringing up her nightmares, he can't keep acting like he isn't concerned. Ziva had told him once that she was tired of pretending. He didn't understand what she meant then, but he does now. He's tired, too – _damn_ tired.

His heart hammers as he looks her full in face, to see her reaction. He takes a deep breath, tries to sound calm, and says, "I came here because I was concerned." That makes Ziva frown fast, and Tony knows that he has to tread carefully now. She hates being pitied. "Because I saw the look on your face when McGee said Banks was having nightmares."

Her shoulders stiffen, and she says simply, quietly, "Oh." Even though it's never been hard for Tony to read her, he can't quite judge her expression. He half-expects her to be angry, but instead, she moves closer to him, raises one arm, and cups her palm against his stubbly cheek. The intimacy of her touch surprises him. "You are a good man, Tony," she says, so softly that he almost doesn't hear her.

"Are you still having them?" he asks, his voice gone soft, too. Ziva's expression falters a bit; she had obviously hoped that he would let this go. She doesn't answer right away, and Tony sees her debating on whether to lie to him or tell the truth. Her hand moves from his cheek to his shoulder, and her gaze flicks to the wall behind him so that she won't have to meet his eyes.

"I had one... in November... after Gibbs and I went to Afghanistan. That... stirred up some things. I guess." Tony can tell from her halting voice how hard it is for her to say, and he's slightly stunned that she trusts him enough to admit this to him. Just a moment ago, he was sure that Ziva would never trust him enough to tell him what happened in Somalia. But now, it doesn't seem so impossible that she might open up to him - one day.

"But before then..." she goes on, "I had not had one... in a very long time."

Ziva finally looks back at him, to see his reaction, and Tony nods in what he hopes in an understanding way. Did she really think that he would ever judge her for that? Or think less of her?

Tony doesn't have the words to tell her how relieved he is that she isn't still having nightmares, or how proud is of her for everything that she's survived. So he just wraps his arms gently around her and holds her like he did in Paris, hoping that this will say it all for him. Ziva's shoulders are still stiff, but he feels them relax under his touch.

Then, very slowly – so slowly that Tony doesn't notice it at first, and he certainly doesn't fight it – Ziva leans into him and raises her delicious, strawberry-flavored lips to his.

She leans her body into his and smiles against Tony's mouth as she kisses him. _Is she really – oh, fuck, yes_ is Tony's last coherent thought, before he gives himself over to the moment and kisses Ziva back with a passion that matches her own. He can taste strawberry jam on her lips, and then on her tongue, and Tony knows that for the rest of his life, he's never going to be able to smell strawberry jam again without reliving this moment and getting as horny as hell.

The sweet strawberry taste on her tongue leaves him hungry for more, so he curves one hand around the back of Ziva's neck, pulling her closer, kissing her deeper. Her body is just as warm and responsive as he remembers as she presses her breasts against him so hard that he can feel her tight nipples through their shirts. Ziva moans into his mouth, and _that_ nearly undoes him.

Without ever pulling her lips from his, Ziva shifts closer to him, until she's sitting right in Tony's lap, with her long, smooth, nearly-naked legs on either side of him. Tony can't resist the temptation to touch them, so he runs his free hand up the length of Ziva's tan thigh and then slips it beneath her shirt.

His hand is headed for her breasts, but it never reaches its destination. Because as Tony runs his fingertips up her toned stomach, he feels the slight, soft ridges in her skin there.

His aroused mind doesn't understand what they are right away, not until he pauses his hand to trace the length of one. That's when the cold realization sinks in.

They're scars, several of them – old and faded by now, surely, but Tony can still feel them beneath his fingers. He remembers clearly the sweet luxury of getting to see Ziva naked when they went undercover. These scars on her stomach weren't there then. Tony didn't expect... but perhaps that was naive of him.

Tony's hand fumbles when Ziva's skin suddenly disappears from under his fingers. She breaks off their kiss and pulls away from him as though she'd touched an open flame. And she would probably get right up off the couch and leave the room if Tony didn't grab her arm just in time. His touch halts her retreat, but she still turns her face sharply away, not looking at him, and Tony can tell that her instincts are telling her to run away from him. From _this_.

He realizes, too late, that he should've kept his hand moving when he felt Ziva's scars, and then they would still be making out. He wants to kick himself for how he reacted, for making Ziva think that he doesn't find her attractive because of this. He has to show her that he can take this part of her in stride. He starts babbling, embarrassed and desperate to undo the damage, but he doesn't get very far before Ziva interrupts him.

"Ziva, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to – "

But she starts shaking her head as soon as he opens his mouth. "I know," she says quickly, still not looking at him. It's obvious that she's embarrassed too, and Tony vaguely wonders why. What the hell has _she_ done to be embarrassed about? He's the one who killed the mood – absolutely _murdered_ it, in fact.

After a brief but very awkward pause, Ziva adds, "When Ducky saw them, I asked him if..." She shakes her head again. "...but he said they will never completely fade away."

Tony fights the urge to ask about the context of Ducky seeing her scars. Had Ziva actually taken her shirt off for him? He runs a hand over Ziva's hair as he tries to work through his conflicting emotions. He's proud that she was confident and unashamed enough to bare her scars to _someone_, even if it wasn't him... yet it makes that old, sad jealousy return, wondering if Ducky is up there with Gibbs on the list of people that Ziva trusts more than Tony.

Of course, no matter how Ducky had seen her scars, _he_ had almost certainly been as cool as a cucumber about it, as if he saw that sort of thing every day. Whereas Tony had actually stopped in the middle of making out to gawk at them. Maybe Ziva had reason to put more trust in the old doctor.

Now is Tony's chance to change that. Right now, as Ziva finally looks back at him, hesitation in her dark eyes, waiting for his reaction.

"You don't see it, do you?" he asks her, very quietly. Her brow furrows, confused, and it saddens Tony to realize that she really _doesn't_ see it. "You don't see that you're a goddamn tiger, Ziva? Whose earned her stripes."

Her is sad and a little off, but it's a smile. Tony takes it as encouragement, and Ziva doesn't resist when he leans in closer and kisses her gently on the cheek. They don't do anything beyond kissing for the rest of the night, and it surprises Tony that just kissing can feel more intimate than any sex he's ever had.

He remembers that night in Paris, when Ziva let him share the bed with her. When he woke up the next morning with her warm body in his arms, he had thought that things could never possibly get any better than this. But he was wrong. Waking up on Ziva's cramped couch – with her body uncomfortably close against his, her curly hair strewn across his face, his clothes rumpled and half-off – is better. He can still taste the strawberry jam on his tongue.

**FIN**


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